How Willie Learned to Read 57
will turn up their faces to the sun when they ought
to hide them in the dust. If, for instance, Willie
had ever put on a sulky face when his mother
asked him to hold the baby for her, that would
have been a thing for shame of which the skin of
his face might well try to burn itself off; but not
to be able to read before he had even been made
to think about it, was not at alla thing to be
ashamed of: it would have been more of a shame
to be ashamed. Now that it had been put into
his head, however, to think what a good thing
reading was, all this would apply no longer. It
was a very different thing now.

The other subject which occupied his thoughts
was this:

Everybody was so kind to him—so ready to do
things for him—and, what was of far more conse-
quence, to teach him to do them himself; while he,
so far as he could think, did nothing for anybody!
That could not be right; it could not be—for it
was not reasonable. Not to mention his father
and mother, there was Mrs Wilson, who had taught
him to knit, and even given him a few lessons in
spinning, though that had not come to much; and
here was Hector Macallaster going to teach him to
make shoes ; and not one thing that he could think
of was he capable of doing in return! This must
be looked into, for things could not be allowed to
go on like that. All at once it struck him that